Sherlock Imagines & One-Shots

Sherlock: Dinner?

It's been around three months since I had crept underneath the yellow tape. Three months since I had stepped foot on a crime scene. I didn't do anything unlawful, oh god no. Let's just say being the one that received visits in hospital is something that I am not used to.

I push through the officers that stood outside the building. I remove my badge from my leather jackets pocket to reveal my identity to those who opposed me. I ignore the irritating demands for me to wear a blue protective suit. I, however, slide on a pair of white gloves before cascading down the stairs. I could hear the voices converse on the floor above me. Lestrade and the infamous consulting detective. There was another voice that I couldn't exactly pin point.

I release a brisk piece of air from my lungs before turning towards the room that was currently being inspected. I stood at the door, watching the detectives bicker between them before the curly haired one turns to me and says,

"And what is she doing here?"

"It's nice to see you too, Sherlock," I reply, standing by the door. "And if you've completely forgotten: I'm a detective. Idiot."

"That's enough you two," Lestrade snaps. "If you haven't noticed we have a dead boy on the floor and the two of you bickering isn't going to solve who the murderer is."

I roll my eyes and huff. I lean against the door way, my eyes never faltering from the gaze I have locked on the consulting detective.

"Ladies first, I suppose." Holmes looks up at me with a smirk.

I raise my hand. "Oh no it's fine," A smirk resides on my lips. "I wouldn't want to embarrass you."

"Still as arrogant as ever I see."

"Looks who's talking."

"Alright, enough flirting," The blonde haired man that was with Sherlock interjected. "Sherlock, deduce so we can leave, please."

That's him being told off by his boyfriend. I lean against the door frame and fold my arms across my chest. It doesn't take long for me to perch my head against the frame as well. Sherlock paces back and forth around the body, spluttering words about the boy that no one seems to pick up on.

He was a nail biter, he was struggling with his GCSE's and couldn't find time to study. He was the favorite, however, over his two siblings.

"So do you think his siblings did it?" I ask once he had shut his mouth.

"It is one of the many possibilities." Sherlock replies.

I push off of the door and enter the room.

"Many?" I question. "How many people do you suspect murdered him?"

"A few and the siblings are first on the list."

"Who else?"

"Wouldn't you love to know." Sherlock replies to a smirk.

"Well, I am a detective," I furrow my brows. "It is my right to know who is in that lovely long list of suspects of yours."

"Of course it is, but you're a detective that has been out of actions for three months, out of no fault of your own, of course."

"What does that I have to do with anything? I was in hospital, so what?"

All he did was smirk. I swear I could just punch him right now to wipe that stupid smile off of his face. He leans down, his breath hitting my ear.

"It's good to have you back."

"It's nice to see you too," I whisper. "Thanks for the flowers."

Sherlock returns to his usual posture. His smiles leaps off his face as he begins to exit the room, his friend trailing after him.

"What a minute aren't you going to give us names of the other suspects?" Lestrade asks.

"Oh," Sherlock turns back around. "One of your detectives was right, for once. I suggest you begin interrogating his brother and sister."

He exits the basement that we were residing in. Donovan and Anderson appear at the door way with the permanent scowl that are attached on their features. I smirk and sarcastically wave at the pair before turning to the Detective Inspector.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I frown and remove it from its containment. Who would be texting me now?

'Dinner? SH'